


How to Get Away with Murder

by galeruicewing15



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst?, Celine - Freeform, Damien - Freeform, Gen, Markiplier - Freeform, Markiplier egos - Freeform, Mental Instability, Short One Shot, The Colonel - Freeform, Who Killed Markiplier - Freeform, Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache, William J Barnam, darkiplier mention, i suck at summaries im sorry, now i have no ideas for anything else, thanks wil, the only thing that's been in my head for the past month, yeah i know it looks weird halfway through but im tired and i didnt feel like fixing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galeruicewing15/pseuds/galeruicewing15
Summary: My version of what happened after Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache.Wilford has to come to terms of his decisions that got him to this point, before the people he cares about are hurt.





	How to Get Away with Murder

**Author's Note:**

> this might be part of another one i may write later but who knows at this point.

He had two things on his mind: dancing and the closest drink.

            The former was what he was doing currently. The latter because it was tiring. Immensely.

            He made his way over to the bar of the club, shouting pleasantries to other people over the loud music. He sat down on the only open barstool, squished between two couples worried that the other might leave if they took their mouth off one another.

            He motioned for the bartender. “One Gay in the Bay, please,” he requested.

            The bartender gave him a funny look, but left to prepare the drink.

            He sighed and leaned back in the barstool. His eye caught many other interested looks from several people in his vicinity. He winked at most of them and sat up quickly before his pink afro wig could fall off his head. One brave young woman stepped forward and brushed her hand against his shoulder. Her eyes conveyed her interest as did her lip caught between her teeth.

            “That’s a nice outfit,” she said, her voice low and a touch husky.

            “Thank you,” he said. “Yours is wonderful as well.”

            She smirked slightly. “Where’d you get it?” she asked, sliding her hand down his arm.

            “Oh…ah….” He couldn’t remember. He looked down at his pink satin shirt and tugged on it slightly, as if touching it would transfer the memory to him. Where did he get it? So many things had happened lately that they all seemed to…blend together. “You know…around….”

            She took that for an answer. She probably wasn’t even listening to him at this point.

            “My name is Kennedy,” she said. “What’s yours?”

            What was his name again? “Ah…Wilford.” Oh, yes. That’s right. He went by Wilford now. “Wilford Warfstache.”

            Kennedy’s eyes widened slightly. “Not Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache?”

            “Oh, so my fame has spread.” The bartender returned with a pink drink in a cocktail glass. “Ah, thank you, my good man. Put it on my tab please,” Wilford said. He turned back to Kennedy, his lips struggling to find the straw.

            “I’ve been told you know how to have a good time,” she said, her eyes straying down to his lips.

            “Oh, darling, I know how to have a _marvelous_ time.” With that, he dragged her out to the dance floor to have some fun.

            Next thing he knew, he was out on the street. He looked at his watch—3am. Well, that happens. He shrugged and staggered down the street, the pink cocktail still in his hand. He had yet to take a drink out of it, as the straw because increasingly difficult to manage. But, one could always learn new things.

            A dog barked from somewhere far off in the city. A cab was approaching from down the street. Wilford raised his hand and the cab pulled over for him.

            “Where to?” the driver asked in a tired, bored tone from the front.

            “Thirteenth Street,” Wilford replied, opening the door.

            He sat down and was greeted by darkness.

Wilford’s lips finally closed around the straw and he took a sip of the drink. Fruity, with a nice kick to it.

The only thing other than himself in the darkness was the wooden chair he was sitting on. Oh, and the girl in the skull mask standing in front of him.

“Hello, Wilford,” she said. Well, someone said it. The words weren’t exactly coming from her direction.

“Hello, Kimi,” Wilford returned gesturing to her with his drink. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she echoed, her voice soft and ethereal. The ends of her jacket sleeves curled inward and claws emerged, clutching at the ends.

Wilford closed his mouth and swallowed. “This must be a special occasion I haven’t seen you in oh….” He couldn’t remember the last time they were face-to-face.

“Twenty years,” Kimi finished.

“And you haven’t aged a day!” he exclaimed brightly.

“Neither have you,” Kimi pointed out.

Wilford went quiet. It was true. He hadn’t aged since that fateful day. It’s been what, decades? So many things had happened, he couldn’t keep track.

“I don't think suddenly becoming immortal was grounds for an intervention,” he said softly.

“No,” Kimi admitted. “But irresponsibly using that immortality does.”

“Me? Irresponsible?” he said, genuinely shocked. “I would never.”

“So those people murdered themselves?” she asked.

A tremor of panic and pain ran through Wilford.

“And those events from the past and in the future changed mysteriously by themselves?”

Another cut of pain.

“And what about your friend? I suppose he’s like that for no reason huh?”

“Alright,” Wilford interrupted, his voice cracking. “I understand now.”

She took a step closer to him. “The council has become concerned about your recent actions. One doesn’t become an extraordinary person like this overnight.”

“This isn’t any of the council’s business,” Wilford said, his voice level again.

“I know,” Kimi said. She took another step closer to Wilford. “That’s why I'm only warning you this time.”

“About what?” he asked.

“Keep on the down-low,” she replied. “Find him. Keep yourselves out of trouble. I may not be able to save you another time.”

“How am I supposed to find him?” he asked, getting delirious. Her presence always set him on edge.

“ _Find him_ ,” she repeated, and leaned into Wilford’s face. Out of the jacket sleeve came a furry, clawed hand. It was speckled with blood. He looked into the black eye sockets of the skull and saw a faint green glare. “Or I will.”

She pushed him and then he was back in the cab. The cabby was starting his meter. He looked in the rearview mirror at Wilford and raised an eyebrow at him. “You seen a ghost or somethin’?”

Wilford let out a deep breath and patted himself down. “No, thought I saw a friend.”

The cabby grunted and started driving. He didn’t ask any more question.

Wilford gazed out of the window at the passing buildings. His mind was racing. He had to find him or else they would be in big trouble. He leaned his head back against the cushion. It was all just a _joke_. Didn’t they understand that?

He sighed and leaned back up. At least he still had his drink. He looked down at it and gasped in surprise.

His pink drink had turned blue and red.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to see more of this, shoot me a message or ask on my tumblr, kingoftherookery


End file.
